


'till our compass stands still

by adamganseys



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Boys Kissing, Conversations, First Time, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-31 05:07:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13967940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adamganseys/pseuds/adamganseys
Summary: Ronan looks away. “It doesn’t matter. It wasn’t like—it was just the demon corrupting everything, alright?”“Yeah, it was the demon corrupting everything and playing on your worst fears.Why was I one of them?”(Adam and Ronan have a conversation about leaving and coming back, which soon turns into making out and more.)





	'till our compass stands still

**Author's Note:**

> So, I started this fic back in late 2016. When I read the part where Adam and Ronan scried into the corrupted Cabeswater together, I had thought dream-Adam had manifested in front of Ronan the same way Robert Parrish did in front of Adam, which Ronan witnessed and pointed out, so I was like, how did Adam not see the dream version of himself talk to Ronan and why did he not mention it????? But then after I started writing, I reread the chapter and realized it was just Adam's voice. But IT'S FINE I took some liberties. It took me forever to finish this because I sort of lost track of where I wanted to go with it halfway, which you can probably tell, because it starts out as a Serious Conversation (which is ultimately only 1/4 of the fic) and ends in making out and smut, which, was NOT SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN. 
> 
> Special thanks to [Ambra](http://archiveofourown.org/users/starsandgutters), our conversations about these boys being dumb as hell about sex finally led to me coming up with a concrete ending for this lmao. 
> 
> Title is from West by Sleeping At Last.

Almost two weeks after Ronan kissed him, Adam arrives at the Barns after work to find Ronan sprawled on the couch, eyes closed, dreaming. He sits on the armchair next to the couch and tries to start his history homework, but it’s difficult with Ronan Lynch in the room, looking like a god asleep on his throne.

Ronan is asleep on his back, arms behind his head, which only accentuates his biceps, his blank tank riding up over torso, revealing the pale skin of his stomach and the dark hair traveling downwards from his navel. Adam swallows and looks back down at his book.

Minutes later, Ronan blinks awake, a small glowing orb in the palm of his hand. He stills when he spots Adam.

“Hey,” Adam says.

“Parrish. When’d you get here?”

“About twenty minutes ago. Opal let me in.”

“And you’ve just been watching me sleep? Creepy bastard.”

Adam rolls his eyes. “No, actually, I’ve been doing my history reading. You’re not that interesting to look at, Lynch, believe it or not.”

Ronan smiles, lazy and open, and Adam’s heart stutters. In addition to being reminded of how unfairly attractive Ronan Lynch is when he smiles, Adam is also relieved to see that he _can_ still smile like that, seeing as Ronan hasn’t done much of that in the past weeks, oscillating between numbness and anger and despair.

“I don’t believe it, actually.”

“Well aren’t you vain. What did you bring back?”

Ronan shrugs, studying the object in his hands. “Nothing useful. I… I still can’t dream the way I used to.”

Adam puts his book aside and walks over to the sofa, staring down at the glowing orb. Ronan hands it to him, their fingers brushing for a second too long. The object feels gel-like in his hand, and the color changes as he turns it this way and that.

“It’s pretty,” Adam notes. A lot of the things that Ronan dreams are beautiful with no purpose.

“Yup,” Ronan says, and Adam can feel Ronan’s intense gaze on his face as he stares down at the orb, making heat crawl up his neck.

Adam puts it on the table and then swats at Ronan’s legs. “Move.”

Ronan raises an eyebrow. “The chair you were sitting on is still there, you know. Your history homework is waiting for you.”

Adam brushes his hand over Ronan’s knee. “Move,” Adam repeats, lips quirking.

Ronan smirks back. “Nah. I’m pretty comfortable like this.”

Adam huffs, then plops down on Ronan, sitting straight on his stomach.

“Fucking christ,” Ronan chokes out, voice pained. “You asshole.”

Adam shrugs, stretching his legs out and placing his feet on the coffee table. “No one to blame but yourself.”

“God, you’re fucking heavy. Get off of me, you giant.” They both know Adam isn’t actually heavy, but Ronan is dramatic and Adam has maybe, possibly, put his weight on him in a way that is genuinely a little painful.

“This couch is big enough for two, Lynch. Don’t be a shit and make room for me.”

“Fine,” Ronan grunts. “Only because I don’t fucking want my internal organs to be crushed to death.”

They maneuver themselves so that Adam is squished in between Ronan and the back of the couch. He’s lying on his side, pressed up against Ronan, who is still on his back. He seems to not be affected by Adam’s proximity, but when Adam places a hand on his chest, he can feel the fast _thump-thump-thump_ of his racing heartbeat underneath.

Ronan turns his head to look at Adam, and suddenly their faces are far too close to each other. Adam’s eyes fall to Ronan’s lips, then back to his eyes.

They’ve kissed a few times since that first night at the Barns, quite heatedly, even, but everything is still so new and tentative. 

He feels fingers graze his own as they rest on Ronan’s chest. Ronan lightly intertwines his right hand with Adam’s, his fingers playing with Adam’s bonier ones. Adam remembers distinctly how Ronan’s mouth had felt against his fingertips.  

He also remembers how Ronan’s throat had felt under his hand, but he pushes that thought away for the moment, not wanting the ever-present guilt to taint this.

Ronan leans forward and lets his lips brush Adam’s, soft, gentle. So much gentler than Adam had expected Ronan to be. Their lips move slowly against each other, Ronan taking his hand away from where it was intertwined with Adam’s and moving it to stroke Adam’s jaw.

Adam pulls away before things can get too heated and he forgets what he wanted to say. They’re both already breathing hard.

“I wanted to talk to you about somethin’,” Adam says, his voice Henrietta-laced from nerves.

Ronan’s face does something complicated. “Okay.”

Adam swallows, unsure how to broach the subject, unsure whether it’s the right time for it. It’ll probably lead to a fight, as most serious conversations with Ronan do.

“That time when, um… when we were scrying into Cabeswater together. Right after Gansey had disappeared and we needed to find him. And the demon—” He stops, losing his resolve for a moment.

“Yeah,” Ronan says after a few seconds, impatient. “What about it?”

Adam takes a deep breath. “Well, I saw… I saw myself next to you. A dream version of myself, I mean. He was standing next to you and he said something to you and…” Adam trails off, voice getting weaker.

Ronan is suddenly rigid beside him. “And?”

“Ronan, everything in Cabeswater was a nightmare at that point. I mean, I saw my father.”

“I know. I saw that. That piece of shit was yelling at you and you stood your ground.”

Despite Ronan’s guarded posture, Adam thinks he hears a hint of pride in his voice, and his own chest feels warm because of it. But he can’t focus on that right then. “Yeah, I did, but—that’s not the point. I saw him and you saw…” Adam falters, remembering seeing a terrible glimpse of Niall Lynch’s body in his peripheral vision as he was battling his own nightmare. “You saw other horrible things.”

Ronan’s expression is tight. “Yeah. I did. What are you asking, Parrish?”

“I’m asking why I was one of those nightmares,” Adam says, trying to keep his voice neutral. “What did I say to you?”

It was something that had been plaguing him ever since he’d seen it. He’d been wary of bringing it up because he knew it wasn’t something he was supposed to see – a private fear of Ronan’s – but he couldn’t get it out of his mind.

Why was _Adam_ one of the things that tainted version of Cabeswater had manifested? Why was he one of the things Ronan was afraid of?

Ronan looks away. “It doesn’t matter. It wasn’t like—it was just the demon corrupting everything, alright?”

“Yeah, it was the demon corrupting everything and playing on your worst fears. _Why was I one of them?_ ”

Ronan doesn’t say anything.

“I saw my _dad_ , Ronan,” Adam says, voice cracking, sounding more anguished than he means to. “And you—what did I say to you that was so terrible, that you were so damn scared of?”

“I don’t want to talk about it. Fucking drop it.”

“I can’t drop it. Just _tell me_.”

“Fuck off.”

Adam clenches his jaw. “Fine.”

He abruptly sits up and clumsily crawls off of the couch, climbing over Ronan in the process. He gathers his books and aggressively shoves them into his backpack.

“What are you doing?” Ronan asks angrily.

“I’m getting out of here,” Adam replies, voice clipped.

“Seriously? Don’t be ridiculous, Parrish.”

Adam grips his backpack tight, back to Ronan, the line of his body harsh. He can’t be here with this hanging over him. He remembers what Dream Adam had looked like in the few seconds Adam’s eyes had landed on him – cold, distant, cruel. Is that how Ronan sees him?

“Adam. Would you just come over here?”

Despite everything in him telling him otherwise, Adam does. Ronan is sitting up, now, and Adam sits next to him.

Ronan does his smoker’s breath, and then, “You asked me if I really thought you’d stay in this place for me.”

Adam exhales. “Oh.” Then, “Ronan…”

“I don’t expect you to,” Ronan says quickly. “That’s not…”

“I wouldn’t stay here for anyone,” Adam says quietly. “I’ve always wanted to get out.”

“I know that.” He sounds defeated.

“I wouldn’t stay for anyone or anything, but… I might come back for some people.”

Ronan stills.

Adam stares at his hands as he talks, unable to look at Ronan as he says his next words, already feeling the tips of his ears turn red. “That list of people is pretty short. They’d have to be… really important to me, to be on it.”

Ronan doesn’t say anything, but Adam can see his disbelieving expression in his peripheral vision.

“And it just so happens that you’re at the top of that list,” Adam says eventually, voice dry.

Ronan still isn’t saying anything. Adam finally turns his head to look at him, and he knows his own expression is terrified. He _feels_ terrified, never really having voiced how much Ronan means to him out loud. Never having even understood how much Ronan means to him until recently.

Ronan is looking at him wholly unguarded, mouth opening and closing as if he can’t get anything out.

“I don’t… I wouldn’t just…” Words stick inside his throat. He inhales deeply and starts again. “You don’t have to be scared of me leaving, okay? I’ll come back to you. I mean… if you want me to.”

Ronan makes a derisive noise at that. “Of course I want you to, shithead.” But the way his voice catches just slightly gives away how affected he is by Adam’s words.

Adam smiles at him, hesitantly. “Okay. Good. So that’s settled, then.”

He receives an eye roll in response. “Yeah. It’s _settled_ ,” Ronan mocks, in a high pitched, inaccurate version of Adam’s accent.

Adam huffs and elbows Ronan in the gut, which makes Ronan swat at his arm, and then they’re scuffling for a few moments before Ronan grabbing his hands mock aggressively turns into him just holding them, slowly interlacing their fingers together as he stares down at them intensely. Adam feels his cheeks heat up at the intimacy of the action, and he can’t quite look at Ronan as he rubs his own thumbs back and forth on the backs of Ronan’s hands.

“So,” Ronan says in a low voice, as both boys purposely look at their tangled hands, resting on top of Ronan’s legs, “Before you ruined it by being a difficult and nosy little shit, where were we?”

Instead of answering him, Adam scoffs. “Oh, shut up. Aren’t you glad that we had this conversation so you don’t have to worry about it anymore?”

“Nope,” Ronan replies easily.

“Liar.”

“Dickhead.”

Adam gives him an unimpressed look. Then, getting serious again, he admits quietly, “It’d been eating at me since that day. I kept thinking… I didn’t know why I was a nightmare for you. And then… then the demon…” Adam exhales roughly. “Maybe you were right to be scared of me.” 

His hands are shaking, now, and Ronan grips them tighter. When Adam finally looks up, Ronan’s brows are furrowed, his expression incendiary.

“That wasn’t you, Adam. And you’re not one of my damn nightmares, dumbass.” When Adam opens his mouth to protest, Ronan cuts him off. “The nightmare wasn’t you. Shit. It’s never you. It was _losing_ you. That’s the fucking nightmare, okay?”

Adam freezes, staring at Ronan with wide eyes, his chest getting painfully tight. Ronan swallows and looks down at their hands again, begins mapping Adam’s palms with his fingers, his touch achingly gentle. Adam stares at Ronan’s lashes low over his eyes.

After a few moments of tense silence, Adam finally says, “You won’t, you know.”

Ronan lifts his head, questioning. 

“Lose me,” Adam clarifies. “You’re not going to lose me.”

Ronan lets out a breath. “Good.”

“Good,” Adam echoes softly.

They stare at each other for a couple more seconds before Ronan clears his throat and says, “So, you never answered my question.”

Adam has to think for a minute, and then he smiles impishly, amused. “What question? _Where were we?_ Smooth, Lynch. You know, if you want to kiss me that badly, you can just do it. You don’t have to transition into it every time.”

Ronan huffs, looking only slightly embarrassed and mostly annoyed. “Asshole.”

Adam laughs, and Ronan shuts him up by cupping his cheeks with his hands and kissing him. The kiss is close-mouthed but deep and lingering, Ronan’s fingers sliding down to fit the dips of Adam’s collarbones and then back again to his face, producing goosebumps as they move across Adam’s skin. Adam is left winded when Ronan finally pulls away.

Adam exhales roughly, feeling far too undone already. He leans his forehead against Ronan’s, trying to calm his racing heart. “So… I think that’s where we were,” He murmurs against Ronan’s lips, sounding embarrassingly breathless.

He feels more than sees Ronan’s smile, the other boy’s thumb tracing circles on his cheekbone. “Yeah.”

“Yeah.” Adam’s voice a hoarse whisper, and then they’re kissing again, hungrier this time.

Adam melts into Ronan effortlessly, his hands coming up to his scalp, Ronan’s hands at Adam’s lower back.

Adam licks the seam of Ronan’s lips, and Ronan parts them immediately, making a low noise in his throat as he does. At the first touch of Ronan’s tongue on his, Adam feels the heat inside his body rise exponentially, and he can’t help but move closer, to press his chest against Ronan’s, to grasp at Ronan’s back tighter and deepen the kiss.

Ronan briefly breaks away to catch his breath, and after a moment’s hesitation, he trails heated kisses down Adam’s chin, his jaw, his throat. Adam gasps as Ronan’s teeth graze the skin below his Adam’s apple, as his hands tangle in Adam’s dusty hair.

The desire coursing through him is too much, suddenly, and he needs to be closer, _closer,_ so he tugs Ronan’s head up and kisses him roughly, once, before pulling away.

Ronan looks confused and opens his mouth to say something, but then Adam shifts over and leans back on his elbows, his head cushioned on the armrest at one end and one hand barely grasping the edge of Ronan’s shirt.

Ronan, still sitting up, freezes.

“Come here, Lynch,” Adam says softly.

Ronan curses under his breath and obeys, slowly leaning on top of Adam, his forearms braced on either side of Adam’s head. For a moment, he just looks at Adam, fingers gently carding through the hair on his forehead, his touch feather light, and Adam looks back.

When Ronan kisses him, it’s raindrops on his skin and the scent of moss burning in his lungs. It’s Ronan’s thumb running back and forth across his jaw and Ronan’s lips moving slowly and languidly against his.

Adam doesn’t understand it, but the more he touches Ronan, the hungrier he gets for him. He doesn’t think he truly realized how much and how long he’d been starving until he felt Ronan’s mouth on his own, Ronan’s hands on his skin.

Adam feels every brush of skin acutely, sharply catches every sound they make even with one deaf ear, records every reaction he manages to incite.

His breath hitches as Ronan’s hands slip under his t-shirt and start mapping his ribs, as he leaves wet, open-mouthed kisses down Adam’s neck, tugs his t-shirt down slightly to attach his lips to his collarbone. Adam’s hands move down Ronan’s back over his tank and then slide underneath it, so he can lift the fabric up and run them over bare skin, over the black ink shaped like beaks and claws. Ronan shivers when he feels Adam touch his tattoo, and Adam’s nails dig into his shoulders particularly hard when Ronan applies pressure with his teeth.

Adam turns his head and kisses the side of Ronan’s head, his breaths coming out as harsh, desperate pants. He feels like he’s burning up.

“God,” Adam exhales when Ronan thumbs at his hipbones. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment; it’s all almost too much to bear.

“It’s unfair that you’re so good at this,” Adam breathes, then, the words slipping out before he can stop them.

Ronan lifts his head and raises an eyebrow.

Adam is vaguely embarrassed about voicing that particular thought, but he can’t back down now. “I mean,” Adam starts, voice low to match the hush of the room, “You haven’t even kissed anyone before.” He pauses. “Have you?”

Ronan’s face is set in an annoyed glare at the reminder. “No, Parrish, I haven’t.” Then he smirks, all bravado. “Guess I’m just a natural.”

Adam rolls his eyes, but he’s biting down a smile. “Shut up, asshole.”

“You were the one going on about my amazing kissing skills—“

“Don’t push it, Lynch.”

“Or what, Parrish?” Ronan’s wearing that shit eating grin that Adam wishes he didn’t find so incredibly attractive.

“Or I’ll push you off this couch.”

Ronan snorts. “Whatever you say.”

Anything Adam was going to say is swallowed up when Ronan kisses him again, fiercer than before. Adam makes a muffled noise against Ronan’s mouth, and can’t help but cant his hips upwards, at which Ronan stills above him.

Ronan pulls back, stares at Adam for an indeterminable amount of time. Maybe it’s just now hitting him how heated things got. Adam, though, has been honed in on that fact this entire time and is not afraid to find out what comes next.

Ronan’s eyes flit to the back door. “I don’t know where Opal is. She’ll probably come walking in any moment.”

“Then let’s go to your room,” Adam suggests meaningfully.

He doesn’t mean it like _that_ , only wants to kiss Ronan without holding back and go as far as ridding each other of their shirts, maybe, but Ronan’s eyes go wider than Adam has ever seen them. He opens his mouth, then closes it again. Their heavy breathing is the only thing to be heard for a long, awkward moment.

Then Ronan stands up, and says, “Okay.”

He offers a hand to Adam, who takes it without a word and pulls himself up. Ronan lets go as soon as he does, but Adam doesn’t let him get far before grabbing his hand again and interlacing their fingers. Ronan doesn’t look at him, but their wrists are pressed together and Adam can feel the other boy’s pulse racing against his own.

They walk up to Ronan’s room wordlessly, and when they step inside, Adam realizes he hasn’t been in here since the day Ronan kissed him. Ronan lets go of Adam’s hand, only to abruptly walk over to the window beside his bed, pulling the shade down just a little, seemingly just to have something to do. Adam walks up behind him, places a hand on the middle of his back, lightly presses his lips against Ronan’s shoulder.

Ronan lets out a ragged breath.

“Lynch,” Adam murmurs, and Ronan turns around. His expression is unreadable, but Adam reads it anyway.

He grabs Ronan’s shirt in his hands and kisses him, hard and desperate. Their tongues meet, but before they can get too into it, Adam pulls away and proceeds to lightly push at Ronan’s chest, guiding him to sit back on the bed, with Adam still standing and towering over him.

Ronan looks up at him, and Adam sees uncertainty in his eyes. “Parrish.”

Adam swallows. “What?”

It’s fine, really. They’re just planning to make out, anyway. Make out on the couch or on Ronan’s bed, in his bedroom, where they first kissed, where no one can walk in, where the shades are low so that the room is filled with a hazy light that makes Ronan look even more savagely handsome than he usually does—there’s no difference. None at all.

Instead of answering, Ronan moves further back on the bed, situating himself at the head, legs sprawled out. Adam exhales and lowers himself onto the mattress, one knee on it and then another, and then, with intention, places his knees on either side of Ronan’s thighs, so that he’s in his lap, straddling him.

Adam doesn’t waste any time, kissing him fiercely as soon as he’s on even ground. Ronan’s mouth opens up for him easily, and Adam groans, pressing himself closer to Ronan. Ronan grabs his lower back and pulls him forward, so that their chests are touching and so are—well, other body parts.

Adam breaks away because the feeling is too intense, and from the look on Ronan’s face, the move wasn’t intentional.

“Shit,” Ronan mutters. “I—“

“Shut up,” Adam says, panting, trying to get his brain back online.

“Parrish.”

“It’s fine,” Adam insists. And it is. So maybe he can feel where Ronan is hard against him, and Ronan can feel him in turn. Nothing’s happening. They were bound to get here, anyways. Adam doesn’t know about Ronan, but his own hunger feels so big sometimes it threatens to consume him.

Ronan looks like he wants to say something else, but instead he just cards his fingers through Adam’s messy stands as Adam huffs out uneven breaths, an unthinking gesture. Adam leans his forehead against Ronan’s, and then they’re kissing again.

It doesn’t take long – a minute or two of kissing heatedly, Adam’s hands slipping under Ronan’s shirt and digging his nails into the center of his tattoo, their bodies flush together, Adam’s mouth biting hard at his earlobe – and then, startling both of them, with a small gasp and a quiet _Adam,_ _fuck_ , Ronan comes in his pants.

It takes a moment to register, Ronan still going through the aftershocks, and when it does, Ronan pulls back so quickly that he bangs his head against the wall behind him. “ _Shit_ ,” Ronan hisses.

Adam just stares at him, not quite able to believe what just happened.

Ronan looks mortified, face flushed in either anger or embarrassment or both. His hands leave Adam’s waist and he brings one of them up to his mouth to chew on his leather bands, then drops it just as quickly.

His voice is a little gravelly. “Fuck. Sorry. I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

And Adam can’t help it – at Ronan’s words, a laugh bubbles out of him, the surprise and mirth in it evident.

Ronan’s reaction is immediate: hurt and embarrassment further twisting in his features for a moment before he schools his expression, and then he’s trying to push Adam off of him.

“Fuck off, Parrish,” Ronan mutters, scowling. “Whatever, I’m going to get changed.”

Adam doesn’t let him get up, twining his arms around Ronan’s neck, fingers touching the nape, and he’s still laughing quietly.

“Get off of me,” Ronan says, glaring.

Adam leans forward and hooks his chin on Ronan’s shoulder, trying to stifle his laughs against Ronan’s neck, feeling so much lighter than he had moments before. “Ronan, relax.”

“Are you gonna let me get changed?” Ronan growls, but he doesn’t attempt to push Adam away again.

“I wasn’t laughing _at_ you,” Adam tries, finally getting himself under control, feeling a little guilty. They’re standing on a precipice, and the moment feels fragile. _Ronan_ feels fragile under his hands, like he could crush him or make him arch up, whatever he chooses. “I just… I can’t believe _that’s_ the first time I’ve ever heard you apologize for anything, Lynch.”

Amusement colors his tone again, much as he might try to keep it at bay.

He had always wondered if he’d one day hear Ronan Lynch say sorry. For the fights, for the relentless mocking, for the anger he wore like a second skin.

The circumstances during which that sorry actually arrived are so ridiculous and unexpected that Adam feels nearly full to bursting with it.

Adam thinks Ronan might bristle at the words, but instead there’s just a loud scoff in his right ear.

“You asshole,” Ronan says, his voice a mixture of fondness and relief.

Adam pulls back and smirks at him. “Seriously. Maybe you should try apologizing when the situation actually calls for it.”

“When do I ever do anything that needs an apology, Parrish?”

This time it’s Adam who scoffs. “The list is endless.”

“So, longer than the list of people you’d come back for,” Ronan replies, casual and teasing.

Adam’s ears turn red at the reminder of his words, and he bites Ronan’s jaw to avoid looking him in the eye. “Definitely longer than that.”

“Good to know.”

They stay like that for a bit, Adam’s forehead pressed to Ronan’s neck, barely there kisses along his throat.

Then Ronan says, tentatively, “Parrish.”

“Mmm?”

Ronan’s fingers travel from where they were perched on his lower back to his stomach, grazing the skin under his t-shirt, touching the hair beneath his navel. Adam sucks in a breath.

“Do you want me to…”

“Oh,” Adam replies, eloquently.

Ronan’s hand stills. “We don’t have to. I just thought… you know, it’s only fair.”

Adam snorts. “Not like _that_ was intentional on my end.”

Ronan pokes him in the rib. “You sure about that?”

“Yeah,” Adam says, pulling back and looking Ronan in the eye. “If it was intentional I would’ve wanted to actually touch you.”

Ronan scoffs again, but Adam doesn’t miss the way his ears go red, the way he mutters _Jesus_ under his breath. His own ears feel a little warm, too, if he’s being honest.

“Well,” Ronan says with practiced nonchalance. “Plenty of time for that later.” Before Adam can respond to that, Ronan adds, “Yes or no, Parrish?”

“God. Okay. Yes.”

Ronan inhales sharply, as if he didn’t actually expect Adam to say yes. “Shit. Okay.”

Adam thinks Ronan will go straight for the button on his jeans, but instead he clasps his hands together like—

“Lynch, are you _stretching your fingers?_ ”

“What, no, I was just—“

“Oh my _god_ , this isn’t one of your damn tennis games—“

“They’re called _matches_ , Parrish, and I fucking know that—“

“Would you like me to call Coach Hawthorne in here, maybe he’ll make us do some push-ups so you can prepare—“

“It was just a reflex, shut up.”

Adam shuts up, because the next moment Ronan’s fingers are trying to undo the button on his jeans.

Adam waits as Ronan fumbles, and then—

“Jesus goddamn Christ, this stupid motherfucking zipper won’t—“

Adam’s head falls on Ronan’s shoulder like a puppet head cut loose, and he doesn’t try to hide his laughter this time.

“Do you need some help?”

“Fuck you. You know, you’re laughing at me a hell of lot, Parrish. Something funny?”

“Yeah, actually. You’re really funny,” Adam says, and he means it to come out mocking, sarcastic, but instead, mortifyingly, it’s just fond, earnest, a little lovestruck.

Ronan just huffs. “You’re such a little shit.”

Adam pulls back to look at him again. “Are you _still_ having trouble with that zipper?”

“Not my fault it’s stuck!”

“Maybe you’re just bad with your hands,” Adam deadpans, and he manages to keep a straight face for about five seconds before dissolving into laughter again.

“You’re hilarious, Adam. You’re really fucking—“ Adam gasps as Ronan grips him through his jeans, “—hilarious.”

“Christ,” Adam chokes out, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Still laughing?” Ronan says, sounding unbearably smug.

“At you? Always.” In retaliation, Ronan drags his finger up and down Adam’s length, through his jeans, the touch feather-light but scorching, and Adam has to work to keep his breathing even.

“You were saying something, Parrish?”

“Yeah. Got that zipper open, yet?”

Ronan’s silence says enough, so Adam rolls his eyes and tries it himself. Ronan was right – it’s stuck, but it doesn’t take long to maneuver it the right way so that it slides down easily. They’re one of his oldest jeans, and Adam has been dealing with the malfunctioning zipper for months.

Adam then looks at Ronan pointedly, but the other boy is staring down at his lap, and Adam notices that his hands between them are trembling a little.

Maybe it wasn’t only the zipper that was the problem.

“Hey,” Adam says, and Ronan finally looks at him. There are so many unfiltered emotions in his eyes that it takes Adam’s breath away – awe, desire, fear.

“It’s okay,” Adam says, voice hushed and sincere and a little rough, and he’s not sure what he’s reassuring Ronan of, only that the other boy needs it, and maybe Adam needs it, too.  

Ronan exhales, shaky, and Adam leans his forehead against his and kisses him lightly, just the barest press of lips. “It’s okay,” he whispers, and then he clasps Ronan’s hand in his and guides it to where it needs to be, under his jeans, under his boxers.

At the first touch of Ronan’s hand, Ronan makes a noise so desperate that if Adam didn’t know any better, couldn’t feel exactly what Ronan was doing to him, he’d think that Adam was the one touching _him_.

Adam is quiet for the most part, but his harsh breaths give him away, as does the way he’s trying to kiss Ronan but miserably failing, missing his lips each time, too far gone to aim properly, so that finally he just hides his face in Ronan’s neck and breathes in his unique scent of leather and moss and Ronan.

And well, Adam may regret teasing him earlier, because Ronan is in fact really good with his hands.

It takes an embarrassingly short time to bring him to the edge. Ronan twists his hand a certain way and then Adam is gasping, accent all over the place, “Ronan, _Jesus_ , I’m not gonna last—“

Ronan replies, “Yeah, welcome to the club,” but Adam can tell how undone he is by the prospect.

It takes only ten more seconds, only Ronan kissing the sensitive spot beneath Adam’s right ear, and then Adam is finishing into Ronan’s hand with a quiet groan.

They stay there like that for a few moments, Adam catching his breath, Ronan catching his, and then Ronan removes his hands wipes it on Adam’s shirt.

Adam shoves at Ronan lightly, all he can manage with the way his limbs seem to not be working anymore. “Lynch. Gross.”

“Payback. Now we both have to change.”

“Asshole.”

Ronan shoots him a quick grin, and then gets off his lap, collapsing back on the bed. Adam joins him a second later, and the bed is big enough that they can comfortably lie down side by side without getting in each other’s spaces, but Adam doesn’t want that.

What he wants is this: their shoulders and arms and legs pressed together, the heat of Ronan against him.  

They’re both still breathing a little louder than normal, staring at the ceiling. This is the part where the awkwardness settles in, Adam guesses, and he definitely feels it, but more than that he feels calm, senseless, happy, quiet.

He takes Ronan’s hand in his, interlaces their fingers, and they lay like that for endless minutes.

“Hey,” Ronan says, and when Adam turns to look at him, Ronan is already looking back. They both stare at each other, gazes roaming, searching.

Ronan’s hand leaves his and instead comes up to stroke Adam’s cheek, and Adam’s eyes nearly flutter shut automatically.

“You good?” Ronan asks, and the way he says it indicates that he’s actually worried about it, as if Adam would ever say no after _that_.

Adam smiles at him, soft and warm and lazy in his post orgasm haze. “I’m really good.” He turns over onto his side and shuffles closer, and then he kisses him, chaste but lingering.

“You?” Adam asks after a beat.

“Yeah,” Ronan says, and Adam can’t suppress a shiver from the low timbre of his voice, from the way Ronan is looking at him.

“Good thing we came upstairs for this,” Adam says then, grinning crookedly. “Someone could’ve walked in.”

Ronan huffs. “You little shit. Nearly gave me a heart attack.”

Adam grins wider, but his ears turn a little pink. “It’s not like I _planned_ for this to happen,” he insists. “Just didn’t want Opal to catch us making out, is all.”

“Or Chainsaw,” Ronan adds.

Adam raises an eyebrow. “Chainsaw?”

“Yeah,” Ronan says, his voice somehow a challenge.

“She’s a bird.”

“She’s a _lady_ ,” Ronan corrects, “And I don’t want her to witness anything inappropriate.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Adam says, and it comes out absurdly fond.

“Whatever,” Ronan says, and kisses him.

Adam sighs into the kiss, deepening it, and then abruptly pulls back.

“I have homework,” Adam says. “And we should change.”

“It can wait,” Ronan murmurs, where he’s mouthing at Adam’s throat.

Adam pushes his chest, annoyed. “No, it really can’t.”

“Jesus, fine, come on.”

Ronan gets up, reluctantly, and offers Adam his hand.

Adam takes it.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for how sloppily written this fic is, but in my defense I did write a lot of it ages ago and just wanted to get it out into the world, so, not my best for sure. I also haven't written smut since late 2016 and honestly i HATE WRITING IT but, this fandom does not have nearly enough awkward first time fics (this is my Official Request to fix that), so of course, I have to make up for it. Also, I feel like I need to make this disclaimer every time now, but Opal is NOWHERE NEAR ANY OF THIS and is not spying on them bye. 
> 
> Find me on twitter @peyttonsawyers and tumblr @adamparrush. Comments and kudos are super appreciated.


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